And All Between by Zilpha Keatley Snyder

Spirit-powers were taught other skills, called illusions, which made it possible to conceal their loss, at least for a while.
    When the changes began to happen, slight and fleeting and unpredictable at first, they were a source of excitement and mystery and sometimes almost of fear. The fear came not so much from the events themselves as from the way that they occurred, unexpectedly and for the most part uncontrollably. But the fear could not outweigh the strange fascination that grew stronger and stronger as the manifestations of growing Spirit-power became more frequent and less easy to ignore.
    And there were other changes, too. With the improvement in her health and strength, Pomma was beginning to take a new and more active interest in many things. For many months, long before she had been confined to her nid-chamber by her illness, she had been sinking slowly and peacefully into a world of dreams, soothing, silent dreams, ever more deep and shadowed. Everything—shapes and colors, songs and voices, even thoughts and feelings—had become vague and distant and uncertain. And now, suddenly, everything seemed very near and bright and urgent. Each morning Pomma awoke with a kind of hungry eagerness, an impatient curiosity that made her scramble from her nid the moment her eyes opened, and which, at times, caused her to stand for long moments on her balcony gazing out into the green distances of the forest, and other distances of less tangible dimensions.
    The days passed slowly and, at last, it was the morning of the day that Raamo and the two other young Ol-zhaan had promised that they would return to the D’ok nid-place. From the moment she arose from her nid, Teera was unusually quiet, and during the morning food-taking she ate but little. It was obvious to Pomma that she was tense and nervous, troubled by the thought that she would again be questioned by D’ol Genaa. Pomma wanted to comfort her—reminding her that Raamo had promised to be present when Genaa questioned her—but there was little space for words at the D’ok table that morning. Valdo D’ok was in good spirits, looking forward to a special celebration to be held before the hour of high sun, in the guildhall of the orchard harvesters. He had been asked, as the father of a Chosen and therefore a personage of high honor, to give the blessing of the Berry before the ceremonial partaking. To insure that the blessing would be of appropriate length and phrasing, it seemed wise to offer several versions to his family for their advice and approval.
    So while Pomma listened to her father’s richly ornamented phrases, she tried to send a message of comfort to the troubled Teera. And when they returned, at last, to their chamber, Pomma said, “Raamo said he would be with you—that he wouldn’t leave you alone with D’ol Genaa.”
    “Yes,” Teera said. “I remember. And I thank you for your comfort.” Her hands twisted tightly in her lap, and she looked around restlessly.
    “Would you like to play a game?” Pomma asked. “It is more than an hour yet until the time Raamo said they would be here.”
    “I think I would like to embroider,” Teera said. “It is still so difficult for me that when I try, it swallows all my thinking and keeps my mind from other things.”
    So the embroidery frames were brought out, and Teera and Pomma absorbed themselves in the intricate and beautiful stitchery that was used by the Kindar not only to express their love of beauty and color, but also to record the written word. They were briefly interrupted by Valdo as he entered to hurriedly sing the parting, and a short time later by Hearba and her helper, Ciela, as they left on their way to the public pantries.
    It was some time later that the silence of the nid-place was suddenly broken by the sound of footsteps. Pomma lifted her head from her work and stared at Teera. Teera’s wide brown eyes were full of fright. The steps that were approaching were firm and swift and